


The Winged Ones

by raendown



Series: Commission Work [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 22:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17374598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raendown/pseuds/raendown
Summary: Village life was quiet up here on the mountain. Madara spent most of his time exploring the forests and the hills in search of the mythical creatures that ruled over their skies - yet hadn't been seen in years. All he was asking was a single glance. What he got was so much more.





	The Winged Ones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sintero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintero/gifts).



> The [dhoti](https://www.google.com/search?q=dhoti&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjeyLrRhuTfAhUs5YMKHSnZANsQ_AUIDigB&biw=1402&bih=718#imgrc=_) that Tobirama wears in this story is a garment typically found in Indian countries.

He could almost see them overhead sometimes, the colors of their wings flickering through the boughs, always just out of sight. Their shadows danced across his own when he stopped at one of the rivers for water and their feathers rustled in the wind when he crept out in to the forest during the night. It felt like they had always been there with him, just out of sight but always watching, and Madara had never understood why his people feared the Winged Ones.

Although he had never actually managed to catch sight of one himself he had listened to every scrap of gossip he could. Most of the villagers agreed that the Winged Ones had been here long before humans came to settle the area and yet, stupidly, they all seemed to think their claim on the land was somehow superior, as if it was not them who had invaded another species’ territory and cut down the trees that made their homes. It was no wonder that no one had actually seen any of the Winged Ones in person for more than a decade.

Madara’s mother had once, if her bedtime stories were to be believed. Before she died he used to demand the tale from her over and over again about the day she stood on the high cliff at the very top of the mountain which sheltered their village and watched one of the wing folk soar through the air in plain view. She described the creature as a graceful woman with hair as wild as the forest itself and wings so wide they blotted out the sun, each feather a glorious beauty in its own right. Madara went to sleep each night after hearing those stories with a smile on his face as he dreamed of magnificent creatures whose brilliance shone so brightly they hid themselves away for fear of blinding the lesser races.

It wasn’t until he had grown older that he understood the Winged Ones had hidden themselves away for fear of threats to their continued survival. Humans had always been a cruel and selfish race. Madara wondered sometimes why his people hadn’t been driven away when they first settled here on this lonely mountainside. Or why they had decided to settle here at all. It was at least a three day journey to climb down and trade with the closest town, over a week if one wanted to make it to an actual city of any consequence. There was little to do on this mountain other than raise goats or learn a skilled trade that could earn a bit of cash when it came time to journey down to the valley below.

As for him, Madara preferred to spend his days wandering the hillsides when he could. Ostensibly he was out hunting to keep his family fed on anything other than the wild grain his oldest brother had a knack for cultivating. In reality he was wading through rivers and hiding in fields of grass, whittling feathers and woodlands creatures from bits of wood he found lying about, waiting for the day when he might finally have his own encounter with the rulers of the sky.

He was well in to his twenties when that day finally came and had long since accepted the possibility that it might never happen yet refused to give up on the dream so easily. Izuna woke him that morning when he rolled over on the futon they shared and spread his arms so wide Madara caught several fingers in his left eye. With a scowl for his youngest sibling he slipped out of the blankets and tip toed in to the kitchen, irritated at being forced awake long before the sun had even thought about rising. His hunting bag slipped easily off its hook and his fingers moved by simple rote as they wrapped a few rice balls in to a napkin and slid them in to the satchel along with a scarf in case the weather turned as foul as he thought it might. Long hours spent roaming outdoors had given him a good nose for the weather; he didn’t need to do more than pass by the cracked kitchen window to know that this morning smelled like rain.

When he stepped outside, however, it was to discover that the rain had come in the night. The world around him smelled fresh and clean even if the ground underfoot was all mud and worms that squelched up around his careful footsteps across the yard. Madara hadn’t let a bit of rain keep him inside since he was a child, though. He lifted the hood of his oilskin cloak and headed for his favorite path.

By the time the sun peeked over the horizon he was far above the village with his feet braced between two rocks and one hand wrapped around a nearby branch holding him steady as he leaned out over a high ledge to drink in one of the best sights the world had to offer. All the high society city folks could keep their fancy living. Nothing could ever be better in his opinion than moments like this when nature was an its most raw and he could feel the blood rushing through his veins urging him to fight for his right to survive in this uncaring world.

Maybe other people didn’t get those kinds of feelings from watching the sunrise but Madara had always been considered a little odd by those around him and it hadn’t slowed him down yet.

His face was painted with a grin as he hopped down and set off in to the deepest part of the forest. Over the years he had traversed this entire mountain from top to bottom, end to end, side to side, and never had he found a single hint of where the Winged Ones made their homes. It baffled him to know that they were always there and yet somehow left no traces of themselves besides the shadows that danced always just out of sight. Frustrating yet so intriguing. How was someone like him supposed to resist?

People like him that couldn’t resist looking were probably the whole reason they hid. He tried not to think about that.

An hour later some of the night’s rains had evaporated but not much and Madara figured if he was already this wet from tramping through the grass he might as well head down to the river. If he could net a few fish he could trap them in the water to keep them fresh and make a proper catch of them later to bring home. He never got that far.

Pushing aside a low hanging bough, Madara ducked to avoid a spray of water and when he straightened again there he was, the most beautiful creature to ever grace a human’s sight. The Winged One turned to peer over his shoulder, curiosity sharp in his gaze but no hint of surprise. Madara could do nothing but stare and let his arms fall uselessly to his side. None of his mother’s stories could possibly have prepared him for the reality of this moment.

In all of his dreams he had pictured colors, bold and elegant, but this perfection he could never have dreamed up on his own. The creature was male, a human body with massive wings growing between his shoulder blades and tail feathers flowing gracefully from his tailbone. Each feather shone with such purity it very nearly brought a tear to his eye. The white was broken only by three bands of gorgeous ruby red, one on each wing and one through the center of his tail feathers. Whether by birth or by aesthetic choice his skin matched his feathers perfectly, unsullied white but for a trio of thin red lines marking his face.

And what a face. Madara had never seen a jawline like that in any human nor eyes that tilted so, ringed with white lashes so long they brushed his cheeks as the creature blinked at him again, tilting his head in a bird-like fashion.  When he turned and the massive wings shifted with him it revealed that he was clad in what Madara had heard referred to as dhoti, pants make from a sarong-like wrap, soft blue material edged with golden thread that left his top half completely bare.

For a long few moments the two of them stood utterly still and gazed at each other without words, beings from two different worlds existing in the same space like some glorious moment in the fairy tales Madara had devoured when he was younger. Then the Winged One tilted his head down with a soft trilling noise and turned away. His feathers ruffled and spread – and Madara cried out with heart-broken dismay when they spread out to their full extension, rising and falling, beating the air in to proper submission so that the creature could rise above its earthly perch and set sights on the sky once more. He wasn’t ready for the moment to end. Madara’s knees were like water but he forced his legs to hurry forward anyway, one arm stretched uselessly before him to grasp at the air even as the Winged One burst through the treetops above and disappeared from his sight.

He stood there for what felt like hours. If not for the drying footprints where the Winged One had been standing atop a rock in the very center of the river he might have thought he imagined the whole thing out of sheer desperation. Eventually he realized his knees were trembling worse than ever and he carefully lowered himself to sit on the rocky riverbank. Staring unseeing in to the trees around him, Madara very slowly began to smile.

It had happened. He had seen one of them – and from so close! Although it hadn’t lasted very long it had been, in his opinion, completely worth all the years of waiting. Madara sat on the rocks like a broken marionette for a long time simply grinning around himself like a fool before it finally occurred to him that the day was marching on without him.

Scrambling to his feet, Madara cast about for what he had been heading in this direction to do before the single best moment of his entire life happened. He couldn’t recall exactly but the river was here so he figured it had something to do with fish. That sounded productive, at least. It was impossible to wipe the excited grin off his face but it hardly hampered his work and so it stayed all the while as he waded in to the current and set about fetching dinner for his family.

Only when he was trotting away with a line of fat catches, going over and over how he would brag about this day to anyone who listened for the rest of his life, did it finally occur to him that perhaps sharing this with the others of his village might not be the best idea in the world. God only knew what they might do if they found out the Winged Ones had finally shown themselves again. He didn’t want to be the one responsible for some sort of bastardized genocide mission if someone saw fit to twist his words and make it sound like the encounter had been at all dangerous. It hadn’t. That creature, that beautiful man, had been anything but aggressive.

Actually, thinking back on it, Madara was fairly sure he’d been more amused than anything.

Coming to the conclusion that he couldn’t brag the ear off of everyone in the village was a bitter thing but at least he had Izuna. His little brother was sitting on the back deck when Madara came thundering down the hill, hunkered over a table he had probably dragged out himself just to take advantage of the brilliant sunshine still trying to dry things up from the night before. He held out one finger without looking up as his elder sibling approached, concentration entirely absorbed by the delicate row of stitching he looked to be in the middle of and clearing unwilling to mess it up.

Unlike the rest of their siblings who all spent as much time away from the house as possible, Izuna had found his skill in the delicate work of embroidery and spent his days inside wielding needle and thread, beautifying clothing on commissions from people who lived down the mountain. Only the rich worried about how pretty their clothing looked. And only the poor knew how to make them so. Izuna’s fingers had been growing fame for years, enough so that his presence had been missed when he was too sick to go to market last month and their father had come home with his pockets full of letters and coin purses, haughty demands barely masquerading as polite requests for his work.

When he stood up to see Madara with a line of fish dangling around his neck Izuna pinched his lips with distaste.

“I wondered what the smell was,” he said.

“You’re getting just as uppity as the fools who wear all that frippery,” Madara teased. Then, because he _did_ know how to be polite even if normally he wouldn’t care to, he hurried to go hang the fish a little ways away so he could sidle up a bit closer and whisper, “I was _right_ , Izuna. They’re here.”

“Who’s here? No, tell me from over there. You’re standing in my light now.”

Madara scowled and danced around to the other side of the table. “The Winged Ones. They’re really here.”

“Of course they are. If your stories are to be believed then they’re _always_ there when you go frolicking about, you just can’t see them.” Reaching up behind his head, Izuna pulled a pin out of the collection stuck in to his ponytail and marked a pleat with it. Then he stood up straight and leaned back on his heels, folded his arms, and gave his brother an expectant look.

“Izuna. _I saw one_.”

The sassy look melted away instantly. “You what!?”

“Keep it down! I saw one! Right in front of me!”

“You’re sure you didn’t stumble through a patch of those mushrooms you brought home by accident once?”

“Shut up! Yes I’m sure!”

After he finally convinced his brother he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing Izuna gladly let him ramble on about every tiny detail of his half minute encounter that morning. If there was anyone he could trust to keep his secrets it was Izuna. Madara loved their other siblings with all his heart, truly he did, but he’d never grown close to them the way he had with his youngest brother. Their sisters were too much older to connect with him properly and their other brother was a carbon copy of their father. Izuna was only a year his junior, close enough that people often forgot they hadn’t been fraternal twins.

His baby brother swore not to let a word of this pass his lips, their conversation cutting off abruptly when they spotted Tajima headed up the pathway to their home. Their father eyed them strangely but called Madara in to help him prepare food for their evening meal.

When they went to bed that night Madara and Izuna laid themselves face to face and curled in towards each other until their foreheads touched, whispering theories and dreams and wild imaginings about what the Winged Ones were really like or why that one had allowed himself to be seen. Both of them stayed up much later than was probably good for them but it was worth it to share their excitement as though they were small children again hoping not to get caught doing something naughty.

The next day Madara was up and out of the house before the sun again, this time because his excitement couldn’t be contained. It didn’t matter that the chances of having a second miracle encounter were pretty much zero. He was still going to spend the rest of his life searching even harder with more hope in his chest. Sunrise saw him resting on a fallen log so he could tug off one of his boots and shake out a stone that had gotten inside. He knew it probably wasn’t showing on his face – resting bitch face was a terrible affliction to live with – but he felt almost as though he himself had sprouted wings in his sleep he was in such a good mood. If he could hold a tune he would have whistled one.

Cheerfulness of this magnitude was so foreign and distracting that Madara failed to realize the flickering shadows overhead were any more frequent than normal until a large splash of water fell seemingly from nowhere and hit him right on the nose. The boot dropped from his hand and his sock ground in to the dirt as he leapt to his feet and whipped his head from side to side, trying to see who or what had done that. When he saw there was nothing around him he looked up at the empty tree tops.

Something brushed against his neck as he did so and when he spun around he gave a startled shout to come face to face with endless pale white. The Winged One grinned in amusement, clearly pleased with himself to have taken Madara by surprise. When the shock passed Madara went absolutely still.

“You…it’s you again,” he breathed. The creature cocked its head to one side, just enough movement to break the spell, and Madara’s natural personality chose the absolute wrong moment to shine through. “You threw water at me! What the hell!?”

He nearly feel off his own feet with surprise when the other began to laugh. The sound was deep and rich, the sort of laugh that made him want to do something else funny so it would never stop.

Even more amazingly, the creature spoke.

“You made for an easy target,” he said. His voice was just as rich as his laugh and so deep it rattled through Madara’s bones with each syllable. It was a gorgeous voice, fitting for such a gorgeous being.

“Who throws things at people!?” Because Madara was Madara and he often found himself at the mercy of his own emotions; there was apparently no time for stopping to wonder at his own good fortune today. He was just glad that the Winged One chose not to take offense to his abrasive attitude. Instead he only smirked a little bit and leaned back on the branch he was crouching on.

Madara took note that the branch hardly bowed at all under his full weight despite being quite thin. His own bulk would have snapped it clean off the tree and he was sure he would stand shorter than the other.

“I never imagined the stories to be so true; humans really are very loud aren’t they?”

“Hmph. I’m a little louder than most,” Madara admitted grudgingly. “Did you just show up to see how big you could make me scream?”

“No. I was curious.”

“About…about me?” That was probably the highest compliment offered to him in his entire life. Even if it was just a general curiosity about humans as a whole, the fact that this glorious being had decided he was a worthy point of investigation was enough to send his heart thundering in to his throat.

The Winged One leaned forward a little and narrowed his eyes studiously. “Do you really have solid bones _everywhere_ in your body? Is that why you don’t fly, because you’re so heavy? Doesn’t it weigh you down when you run?”

“Wha-what? You…don’t have solid bones?” Madara blinked furiously. What did that even mean?

“Of course not. Most of our bones are pneumatic – hollow. Well, not entirely hollow. You see–” Red eyes lighting up with an almost familiar look of glee, the Winged One began chattering on about marrow and honeycomb patterns versus crisscross patterns, losing the human in front of him within the first few sentences. It took a minute or so before Madara realized why he almost felt as though he recognized that expression.

That was the same look his mother used to get in her eye when Tajima brought her home a new book from the market, when she spotted a brand new piece of information to research. Learning and discovering new things had always been her biggest passions.

Reeling from having more information than he had ever wanted to know about bones dropped on him all at once, Madara did the only thing he could think of to get a word in edgewise. The Winged Once gave him a strange look when he raised his hand but paused anyway and motioned for him to speak.

“If it isn’t rude of me to ask, what’s your name?”

“Why would it be rude to ask for my name?” Using a question to answer his question had always made Madara scowl; this time was no exception.

“I don’t know! Maybe your kind have different rules or something!” he shouted, waving his arms vaguely.

Eyeing him strangely, the Winged One huffed. “It’s your kind who are strange.” Straightened himself, wings shifting absently behind him, he transformed from slightly mocking to oddly formal. “My name is Tobirama of the Senju Flightlands. May I have your name in return?”

“Madara. My name is Madara. Of, uh, the Uchiha family I guess. What’s a Flightland?” He sort of wished he could remember all the things his father used to ramble on about years ago concerned the clan they were supposedly a part of. Apparently there were literally hundreds of Uchiha out there, although if that were true he wondered who none of them ever seemed to come visit. Maybe they lived too far to travel.

“A…hm. How to explain. A family of my kind, a group of us who nest together, and the area that we have claimed as territory, they are all our Flightland. We are one with the skies we have claimed.” The creature shrugged and Madara nodded. That made sense.

Then he realized he had let a very important bit of information nearly slip him by and he whispered to himself, “Tobirama.”

“Yes?”

“Nothing! I didn’t say anything!”

“You spoke my name,” Tobirama pointed out. Madara scowled defensively and crossed his arms.

“Well you…you gave it to me. I was just…shut up!”

“I see. You are interesting. I think I will visit you again.” Tobirama gave a huff of mocking laughter and then he was springing off the branch he had been resting on, wings flaring out to take his weight and propel him up above the treetops.

Madara lost sight of him almost before he could shout angrily at having been dismissed without so much as a single warning. He was left standing there wondering if any of that had actually happened or if maybe Izuna was on to something and he was really out here hallucinating a feathered friend for himself. If not for the wet patch on the front of his shirt where Tobirama had knocked a bit of dew off the branches and on to his face he might have actually been worried.

It became almost like a game after that. Tobirama didn’t show up every day but when he did he usually announced his presence by sneaking up on Madara somehow and frightening him or pulling some sort of prank. According to him his kind were quite fond of playing. Madara was pretty sure his new friend was just a bit of an asshole.

Not that it discouraged him from waiting for each meeting with baited breath. He had already spent most of his time out wandering the hills but now he found the hours when he had to go home almost unbearable some days. If not for how much he adored his little brother he might have built himself a cozy little cabin at the very top of the mountain just on the vague hope he could spend a few more hours with Tobirama. The time they spent together wasn’t exactly productive but it was addictive in a way he’d never found the company of his fellow humans to be

Sometimes they met by the river and Madara taught his friend to skip rocks. Other times Tobirama found him in the forest and raced him through the trees chucking pine cones at his head as he ran. Sometimes they found a spot to sit on the high cliffs and talked half the day away, learning about each other or simply trading opinions on this or that. Madara’s favorite days were the ones when Tobirama would take flight and show him beautiful aerial tricks, swooping and diving, twisting and looping, every movement as graceful as a being who ruled the skies should be. Sunlight dimmed in comparison to the brilliant shine of his feathers and the light of fierce joy in his eyes whenever he took to the air. It was an honor to behold each time.

Almost without them realizing it, suddenly an entire year had passed since they had met. Autumn was filled with tentative gestures, winter was a time of fun and surprises as Tobirama proved his ability to blend in with the snowy landscapes, spring saw a vigorous kind of energy in his friend, and then summer came again and brought with it something new between them.

“What’s with your face?” Madara demanded one afternoon, his body spread out to lounge atop a fallen log and his fingers playing with the ropes he was supposed to be using for setting snares. The food he brought home to feed his family with was the only reason they had never tried to chase him about doing something ‘proper’ with his life. Tobirama beckoned him to sit up, which he did with a reluctant groan. Then he gave a start of surprise when his friend settled at his side.

“I have something for you,” Tobirama said. His voice carried an oddly formal quality that had Madara listening a little more closely.

“Oh?”

“You must promise to keep it with you always. That’s important.” The hands crossed primly in his lap parted to reveal a single perfectly white feather, one from his own wing, presumably.

Madara gaped when it was carefully presented to him. “For me!? You’re giving me one of your–! Are you sure?”

“Very sure. Will you accept it?” Of all things, Tobirama looked nervous.

“Of course! Wow. Damn. This is – thank you. Wait, if I keep it with me won’t it get crushed? Shouldn’t I keep it safe at home? No, then someone might find it. Shit…” Madara reached out with a trembling hand to gently brush his fingers down the incredible gift, admiring how soft the barbules were.

Looking faintly embarrassed, Tobirama reached out with one of his own hands to push some of Madara’s hair aside. “No, like this.”

Madara kept as still as possible as the other worked, fiddling with the hairs near the base of his neck. When his friend pulled away he patted at the side of his head but he couldn’t feel anything. Tobirama smiled as his slightly panicked look.

“You were worried about keeping it safe so I put it where no one will see it if you do not want them to. Don’t worry about crushing it, my feathers are stronger than you think.” He looked as though he were about to burst but it was hard to determine why. Madara’s best guess was that this whole ‘exchanging visible forms of affection’ thing was as mortifying for his companion as it was for him.

“What about when I wash my hair?” he asked.

“It won’t harm the feather.”

“And it won’t fall out?”

“No. It will never fall from where I have placed it unless you choose to take it out.” Skittering his gaze off to one side, he dropped his voice and murmured, “I hope you will not do that.”

Sliding his fingers under the thick mass of his hair, Madara carefully dug around until he had found his new accessory, grinning like a fool. “Never,” he promised. Tobirama’s answering grin was blinding even if it was faced more towards the trees around them.

For a minute the two of them sat there grinning foolishly in opposite directions, both too awkward to pick up the conversation from where it had petered out. Madara played with the feather in his hair, his own little secret, and flushed with another rush of adrenaline as it hit him for perhaps the thousandth time how lucky he was. Not only to have witnessed a Winged One with his own eyes but to have met him, spoken to him, befriended him.

Although that last one was becoming a bit of a problem. Madara had done his best not to make an issue out of it and he was fairly sure he’d done a decent job of hiding it because, really, what good could come of Tobirama finding out that a human was falling in love with him?

Madara couldn’t pinpoint any one specific moment when he’d realized his heart had decided to wander down this dangerous road. The fall was so gradual he barely noticed until he was in too deep and it was much too late to stop himself from doing anything stupid. And falling in love with someone he could never be with was clearly stupid. He had no doubt that Tobirama’s affection for him was genuine, that their acquaintance had grown in to a true friendship built on trust and complementary sass, but he also had no delusions about the possibility that someone born to be as free as his wings implied could ever be happy shackled to someone doomed to be earthbound for life.

Not to mention the difference in their lifespans. Winged Ones, he had learned, would never die of old age. It was in their nature to live until they were killed, children a rare commodity among their kind. Tobirama himself was already well over sixty years old, though he looked like he was still younger than Madara even, and he would remain as he was now until the end of time unless he was struck down by either illness or a predator of some sort.

He was grateful that Tobirama didn’t seem to have noticed his growing affections. Skirting around the issue saved them both the trouble of the awkward rejection conversation and any ensuing strain on their friendship. Madara was perfectly content to spend the rest of his life soaking up what companionship he could; it actually sounded like a pretty good life to him, better than wasting away in the village and settling down with some girl he could barely stand like his father wanted him to. No, he would much rather disappear in to the hills and wait on Tobirama’s pleasure every morning.

When they saw each other the next day Madara nearly exploded from the heat in his face when the first thing Tobirama did was slide his hand underneath Madara’s hair just to make sure his feather was still there.

“I promised, didn’t I?” he grumbled, leaning away despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to pause the whole world so he could enjoy how those fingers felt against the nape of his neck. Tobirama puffed himself up, preening his wings and looking more smug than ever before.

“You did,” his friend acknowledged. “How very pleasing that you meant it.”

“Why are you so weird?” Madara asked, shoving the invading hand away. Then he tried not to be obvious about the way he melted at the sound of Tobirama’s laugh.

“If I am bothering you then feel free to say so and I will spend my time elsewhere.” A few beats of silence passed while he waited pointedly for an answer. When Madara turned away and stuck his nose in the air Tobirama laughed again and expanded his wings, lifting himself in to the air only to push at Madara with his feet.

He stumbled forward with an indignant squawk. “What the hell are you doing, birdbrain?”

“Do stay still. You’re not going to leave so allow me to entertain myself while you stay.”

Madara huffed as he was manhandled in to whatever position his friend seemed to want, unceremoniously plopped on the ground so Tobirama could settle back to earth behind him. Another embarrassing noise escaping when he felt two hands pulling at his hair but trying to shake them off only earn him a sharp tug that made his scalp sting. 

“What are you doing?” he whined.

“Entertaining myself as I said. Now. You told me last week that Izuna had gone down in to the valley, has he returned yet?”

Successfully distracted by talking about his favorite sibling, Madara sat and allowed his hair to get pulled in every which direction while his mouth ran like a faucet, chattering endlessly about everything Izuna had passed on to him about his journey in to town. He had handed over several finished pieces of his embroidery and collected another handful of commissions to do but he had also, apparently, met the woman of his dreams while he was there. Tajima had been over the moon to hear his youngest son had finally caught his eye on a woman. Madara was less enthusiastic.

“I don’t think father realizes that none of us are very happy at home and Izuna’s no exception. If he takes up with this woman then he’ll probably move away. My sisters both have their eye on someone as well and our other brother has been thinking of building his own place. Soon it’s going to be just father and I – at which point I’ll probably find a nice cave to live in.” A shudder passed through him. “Living alone with him would be a nightmare.”

“Would you leave if you could?” Tobirama asked quietly. Madara snorted.

“No. This mountain is my home even if that house is not. I was serious, you know, if I had to I would live in a cave up here. You could visit me without having to leave or something or being afraid that someone will see you.” He tried to keep his voice casual. It may or may not have worked.

“All done,” Tobirama said, sweeping the palms of his hands down Madara’s back with a casual motion.

Curious, Madara reaching behind his head and patted around. For as long as he could remember he had always worn his hair loose. The length and volume made it an impractical decision but trying to do anything with all of it always took too long, not to mention the effort always hurt his arms. He could have cut it but it had always grown too quickly to manage and he looked stupid with short hair anyway. Now his fingers navigated the loops of a neat braid falling gracefully down his back, noting as he did so that his gift feather had been pulled forward in to prominent display. He brushed against it reverently before turning around.

“I can’t keep it like this,” he said. Tobirama nodded understandingly.

“But you can wear it until you go home.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

And thus was born another tradition. Madara noticed that Tobirama had been showing up earlier and earlier each morning, meeting him closer and closer to the village with each day that passed. Now when they met the first thing his friend did was to force him to sit somewhere to have his hair braided or otherwise tied up with his feather always left on display for them both to admire. It was nice to have someone play with his hair again.

It was even nicer to enjoy the feel of Tobirama’s hands on him at the beginning of every day.

Summer was tapering off in to autumn and the first leaves had finally begun to turn their colors when Tobirama showed him something he had never even thought to wonder about before. Such an incredible thing seemed so forbidden to his mind that it simply hadn’t occurred to him.

“You told me once that you would like to live in a cave where I could visit for longer.” His friend paused and Madara resisted the urge to turn his head while there were still fingers in his hair. “Is that…why a cave?”

“Well I don’t see any houses up here, do you?”

“I see many things that you do not,” Tobirama whispered in his ear.

Madara shivered, unable to hide it. “The hell is that supposed to mean?” he demanded. Two warm hands swept down his back, the usual signal he had come to recognize as meaning his hair was finished, and then that beloved voice was back in his ear, rumbling deep and quiet as though they weren’t the only two people for miles in any direction.

“Let me show you the things I see.”

“Gods yes…”

Tobirama laughed at him but he stood and swatted at Madara’s hair as he did so, revealing that today he been doing nothing but play with the strands instead of tying them back somehow. Not that Madara minded. He was quite used to wearing his hair loose so it hardly bothered him, although he was a little baffled that Tobirama had taken the time to sit and pull at it for half an hour without actually doing anything.

Dark hair streamed out behind him and his feather disappeared back underneath the messy waves as he was pulled from the log he’d been perched upon and sent rushing headlong through the forest after the winged figure that dashed ahead of him. Watching Tobirama run without flying was always a little funny. With each step his wings fluttered and instinctually tried to lift him, his legs propelling him onward with little skips and hops through the branches of whatever tree happened to be closest. As graceful as he was in the air he was often just as funny looking when he tried to remain earthbound.

Although he had no idea where they were going or why Madara wove through the trees with a wild grin on his face and trusted that his destination could only be something amazing. It didn’t matter if all Tobirama wanted to show him was some hidden cave he could sleep in sometimes, it was always an amazing time to him as long as they spent it together.

On and on they barreled through the forest until Madara realized that he had been seeing something for a while now without even realizing it. With Tobirama here to distract him it was easy to forget that the trees overhead had never truly stopped flickering with darting shadows, that the rustling of the leaves had never stopped dancing in certain patterns whenever he entered the forest. It was easy to believe that they had always been alone. Finally noticing something that had never truly gone away was like waking up to find that reality had suddenly become just a little too real.

It took Tobirama stopping at last and waiting for him to catch up, pressing two fingers against his forehead with a grin, for Madara to finally understand the true secret of how the Winged Ones protected themselves from humankind. Something deep and ancient surged through him at Tobirama’s touch. When he opened his eye from the full body tremor he looked up – and there they were. Feathers of every color and faces with an entire rainbow of expressions hung in the treetops above him, staring down from platforms and houses and bridges and stairways all built in to the treetops as though they had grown there naturally. When the leaves rustled in the wind he could hear voices drift passed his ears and Madara wondered if any human had ever been so blessed.

Surely this moment was the pinnacle of his entire existence. After spending his whole life praying for nothing more than a single glimpse he had been trusted with being shown their _home_. Tilting his head back, Madara was distracted by the proud way Tobirama was holding himself, noting with some exasperation that his companion was still unbearably smug. He always had liked knowing things others did not.

Had they not been interrupted they might have stood there and stared at each other for hours in an endless moment of mutual triumph. Instead Madara nearly leapt out of his own skin when an unholy screech rent the air. He had just enough time to register the shock in Tobirama’s features before something brown enveloped his vision and he was hauled bodily off his feet, gurgling and pulling desperately at his clothes to avoid being choked by his own shirt. Whatever had grabbed him moved fast; Tobirama had only barely enough time to cry out in protest before Madara lost sight of him in a whirl of feathers and rushing colors.

Being carried through the air was much more terrifying than all his favorite dreams had led him to believe. There was no magical sensation of joyous freedom, only the horrifying knowledge that his life was currently at the mercy of a beast he couldn’t even see.

Tobirama’s voice was just barely audible over the air rushing passed him, his speech garbled and unintelligible but the frantic note of panic in his words more than clear. If this was the moment he died Madara was distantly glad that he would at least die with his beloved’s voice calling after him. Although it probably wouldn’t be very polite to traumatize his best friend by making him watch such a gruesome thing as death by – how _did_ the thing carrying him plan to kill him? Judging by the fact that he’d never seen Tobirama eat meat he had to guess it would probably be either stabby talon death or getting thrown off the mountain.

He got his answer when they burst out of the trees, branches scratching at the arms he held up to protect his face, and he found himself dangling over a precipice that made him woozy just looking out over it. Normally heights didn’t bother him much but normally his feet were planted firmly on the ground and he had something sturdy to wrap his hand around.

“Intruder,” a deep voice hissed in his ear. “You will _not_ have another of my brothers!”

“But I–! _FUCK_!”

There was barely time to scream when he was let go without warning – and he had no breath in his lungs for it anyway, taken as it was by the stomach-dropping plunge. Gravity took him and Madara could do nothing to resist it, pulled down down down towards the unforgiving earth below while his arms pin-wheeled uselessly. It was a long way to fall, he noticed inanely, and he was sort of glad when the wind buffeted him and spun his body to face upwards so he couldn’t watch the ground coming.

Blinding white filled his vision instead. Like an avenging angel Tobirama fell with him, wings tucked in for a proper dive and his face locked in a rictus of fear. When his friend reached out Madara responded in kind on nothing but pure animal instinct. Strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and then massive wings flared and the trajectory of his fall changed until he wasn’t falling anymore but flying once again, swooping upwards the way he had watched from afar so many times over the past year, cheating death before it could meet him on the rocks below.

Madara buried his face in Tobirama’s neck and reveled in the arms that tightened around him. Even knowing how much empty space there was beneath their feet he immediately felt safer here, secure in the arms of someone he trusted with his life. He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped they were headed for the quickest path back down to the ground because there were very few things he would not have given at that moment to have something solid under his feet again. Luckily his prayers were answered when they touched down only a minute later. Madara stumbled on shaking knees, tightened his arms around Tobirama’s neck, and murmured his thanks over and over in to the skin of his friend’s neck.

“I have you,” Tobirama said. His wings wrapped around the two of them like a wall against the rest of the world. “Nothing will hurt you while I am here.”

Before Madara could respond another voice cried out. He winced when he recognized the same voice that had growled in his ear before throwing him to his near-death with no explanation beyond a vague threat.

“Tobirama! What do you think you are doing?”

“Me?” his friend snarled. “What do you think _you_ are doing? Have you gone mad?”

“He is a human,” the other voice pointed out.

“Don’t pretend that you have not had someone following us almost every day for the past year, Anija. You know damn well that he is no threat!” Tobirama huffed and curled his wings around them a little tighter in sullen protest.

As much as he wished he could take a moment and enjoy the feeling of having his body pressed up against the other’s – unlikely to ever happen again unless he wanted another terrifying lesson in flight – Madara’s entire body went stiff with attention at those words. He lifted his head at last to meet Tobirama’s eyes.

“You said ‘Anija’. Did your _brother_ just throw me off a fucking cliff!?”

He knew about Tobirama’s brother, of course. They had both spent hours telling each other about their families. He knew all about the Winged One named Hashirama, the strongest of their Flightland and therefore their leader. He was nearly thirty years older than Tobirama and yet far from the oldest among them. Some of their elders were centuries old, which only put more weight on the fact that Hashirama had been accepted as their leader and protector.

It seemed he was a tad overprotective, in Madara’s opinion.

His indignant question was answered by a sharp nod and the unfurling of Tobirama’s wings. Outside their little circle of safety stood a creature who also looked as though he had just stepped out of a legend. Tobirama was already tall compared to Madara but this Winged One was _massive_. Everything about him was brown from head to toe but for the black speckle pattern on his wings, which stood so far above his head when folded Madara was stunned just imagining how far they would stretch when fully expanded. He also had a single red feather tied in his hair. More than all of that, however, it was the sheer force of his presence that made him impressive. Just standing before him gave one the sense that kneeling might be appropriate.

Right then he looked ready to force the whole world to kneel before him, brows drawn together with anger that probably stemmed more from the urge to protect his sibling than anything else. Madara could respect that even if he very much wished it wasn’t directed at him.

“Step away from the human,” Hashirama demanded. Tobirama released Madara only to cross his arm over his chest.

“No,” he denied shortly.

“You are the only brother I have left. I will not lose you to the humans as well.” Pain flashed across his face, the very old kind that never truly goes away.

Tobirama snorted. “Don’t try to use that against me; as I said, you know damn well that Madara is no threat.”

“All humans pose a threat,” Hashirama insisted.

He shifted in a way that made it look as though he were about to dash forward and Madara flinched away reflexively, stepped back as though that might bring him out of reach. It was a stupid move in retrospect. If he trained for a hundred years he could never be fast enough to outrun something with a wingspan that big. But there was no overriding his own instincts, though he was very free to curse them as his heel caught on a root and he was pitched backwards by his own clumsiness.

What little air he had managed to gasp back in to his lungs rushed out again when his back hit the earth, Tobirama too busy facing off against the other Winged One to try and break his fall. Madara groaned piteously and reached up under his hair to rub at the back of his head. That had hurt.

A tense sort of hush fell over the clearing when he did, making him freeze in place and snap his eyes from side to side, wondering what the hell had just happened.

“Tobirama,” Hashirama said in a hushed voice. “What have you done?”

“It was my decision, mine to give.” Whatever Tobirama had ostensibly done, he clearly wasn’t sorry for it.

“But he is _human_!”

“My. Decision. And I believe I have chosen well.” Strong hands took hold of his arms and Madara found his feet with Tobirama’s help, immediately tugged in against the other’s side once more. “Out of all of us I thought you would be the most accepting, Anija, but I see that I was wrong. Clearly all your prattle about making peace with the humans someday was just that – prattle. You may come find me when you have come to your senses.”

He turned away with a huff, showing his back to Hashirama and ushering Madara back towards the way they had come from. It had only been a few minutes since they arrived and yet it felt as though half a day had passed with all the excitement they had gone through. Madara was grateful that Tobirama was smart enough not to try lifting him up off his feet because he was fairly sure it would have set off a panic attack right then. He trusted his friend, certainly, but he just wasn’t up for a repeat experience so soon.

Shadows flickered overhead while they made their way back down the mountainside, visible now as nosey Winged Ones instead of formless shapes in the corners of his eyes. Madara lasted a half hour of silence before he finally calmed down enough for his curiosity to get the better of him.

“How did you make them visible?” he asked. Tobirama nearly missed a step, startled at having the quiet between them broken without warning.

“Humans would call it magic.” Coming to rest on a low hanging branch, he tilted his head in thought. “It isn’t, really. We asked the earth to hide us from humans a long time ago because we were tired of being hunted for sport. The earth listened. And when I brought you to our nesting grounds I spoke to the earth and told her that I trusted you. She listened to that too.”

“You can talk. To the earth.” Madara nodded to himself slowly, mind a little blown.

“I suppose you could too if you took the time to learn her language.” Tobirama shrugged as though that was not also a reality-bending statement.

Fingers running around the back of his neck, Madara’s next question was, “Why did he freak out when he saw the feather you gave me? Is that a big deal or something? Are you not supposed to give away your feathers?”

He was fascinated to see Tobirama’s entire face turn a brilliant shade of red. Snickering drifted down to him from the treetops and he watched bemusedly as his friend scowled up at the idiots still following them. In a moment the sky was clear and they were truly alone at last. Tobirama cleared his throat, looking awkwardly to one side.

“You noted the red feather my brother wears in his hair, yes?”

“Uh huh…”

“It is…our way of marking the one we have chosen as our mate.” Tobirama cleared his throat again, filling the silence that fell between them as Madara stared with his jaw hanging somewhere around his knees.

Brushing his fingers carefully against the feather that suddenly felt a hundred times more precious, Madara asked in a breathy voice, “You marked me as your mate?”

“I…yes. And it seems my brother’s little spies were too afraid to report that back to him.”

“You _like_ me!? Like that? But I’m human!” His arms flailing wildly, illustrating nothing but the freneticism of his own rush of emotions. “I can’t fly and I don’t have wings and I won’t even live for a quarter of your lifespan or–”

“Actually…” Tobirama coughed.

Madara froze, wide eyed and almost scared to ask. “Actually _what_? Did you ask the earth for more favors or something!?” He scowled back when Tobirama sent him a haughty look.

“Of course not! That is beyond her power. It’s merely a side effect of the mating.” The way he spoke was so casual, so matter of fact, as though this was something Madara should have inferred on his own. Sometimes both of them were prone to forgetting that some customs were not the same between both of their species.

“Side effect? Like ‘hey let’s mate – woops now you’re eternal’ or something?”

Now Tobirama looked outright offended. “No! When I secured my feather to you I bound you to my life force. That is what preserves it against damage or falling loose. And it will protect you from aging as well; for as long as I remain, so too shall you.”

“Oh.” Madara’s jaw snapped shut, his expression a little wild around the eyes. “And does it…does that…work the other way too? What happens if I bite it first?”

“Then I shall die with you,” Tobirama confirmed quietly. Madara swallowed.

“Oh,” he said again.

“Don’t look like that. If it displeases you I can–”

“I never said I was displeased!” Madara covered his feather protectively, pulling his hair in tighter around his neck to cover it up. “This is just a lot to take in! I never thought you liked me back!”

As soon as the words were out he flushed, realizing his mistake, but by then it was much too late. This time it was him that looked away with embarrassment as Tobirama skipped across several tree branches to drop down in front of him, pushing in close while his wings opened to fold around them much like they had earlier. In an instant the world around him was entirely made up of white – white feathers, white skin, the whites of his knuckles – and red – red streaks, red tattoos, two beautiful red eyes staring down in to his very soul.

Tobirama’s fingers caught his chin and tilted it upwards.

“You have become my whole world,” he declared. “To know that you feel even a fraction of that same affection is a better gift than you could ever think to give me.”

It wasn’t exactly a surprise that he followed such words with a kiss but Madara still felt as though the ground had dropped away from him for a second time. With his heart in his throat he pressed up on to his toes and did everything in his power to give as good as he got, arms snaking their way around Tobirama’s neck to cup the back of his head and hold him tight. Up until now his kissing experience had been limited to a couple of girls his father had sent him on dates with and that one young man on his eighteen birthday, hidden behind a garden shed and fumbling together blindly. Tobirama was, without question, much better at this than he was.

Although he couldn’t say the other seemed disappointed in any way. If he weren’t otherwise occupied Madara might have buffed his nails smugly at the satisfied groan that clawed its way up Tobirama’s throat as the Winged One pushed him back against the closest tree. Their bodies pressed together like he’d thought they never would again but this time it was so much better, this time he was able to soak in the warmth between them and the way Tobirama’s bare chest rubbed against the material of his shirt, desperate for closer contact but not wanting to _seem_ desperate.

His traitorous mind saw fit to remind him that it would be so very easy to unravel Tobirama’s dhoti to leave him completely bare. Clenching his fingers in pale hair was all that kept him from following through on that thought.

“You belong to me,” Tobirama whispered against his lips. “Return to your village at night if you will but never forget it’s me you belong to, me you belong _with_.”

“Forever,” Madara whispered back. It sounded like a weak sort of promise with the way his voice shook but it had more weight than any fairy tale story because they really would be together forever. Time would march forward as it does and Madara could expect the decades to pass over him like a gentle breeze, leaving him safe and untouched in the arms of his lover.

When he went home that night he came down from his high rather abruptly as the downside finally occurred to him: he might live forever but his family would not. Izuna slept soundly through the first hour after Madara crawled in through the window, dreaming the night away, blissfully ignorant of the incredible events that had happened further up the mountain. Madara considered letting him sleep and setting his news aside for another day but he feared he would put it off again and again until he lost his nerve entirely. Better to do it now while he still had a bit of adrenaline left to ride.

Izuna grumbled when he was shaken. He muttered curse words when he woke. His eyes very nearly fell out of his head as he listened to Madara recount his tale in franticly energized whispers, trying and failing to keep his voice down so they wouldn’t wake the others. When it was his turn to speak, however, he offered a bit of news of his own, a secret that he too had lost the nerve to reveal.

Knowing that they would have to separate anyway eventually did not make facing it now any easier. Only Izuna’s sheepishly please smile allayed Madara’s fears and calmed him enough to see the happiness in what he’d been told. Enthusiastic that one of the two sons he saw as hopeless had finally taken an interest in someone, Tajima had leapt on the chance he saw in Izuna’s little valley crush. If Madara had spent more time at home he might have noticed that Tajima had left a few days before to head down to the town below and speak to the girl’s parents about arranging a marriage. Their biggest stipulation had been that Izuna move in to town rather than sending their only child to live up on a lonely mountaintop.

Madara recognized it was a smart idea even as he hated that Izuna would be so far away now.

“Visit,” he demanded, curling under the blankets with the only family member he had truly connected with other than his mother.

“I will if you will,” Izuna shot back.

They grinned and shoved at each other and fell asleep whispering back and forth, recounting this or that childhood memory, gushing over the futures spreading out before them.

Sunrise found them both dressed and slipping out of the village together for the first time in more years than Madara cared to remember. It had been too long since they spent more time together than an evening sitting by the fire while Izuna sketched out his latest project and Madara chattered away about his forest adventures.

He hadn’t asked beforehand if it was alright so Madara was incredibly happy when Tobirama allowed himself to be seen by Izuna without so much as a single protest, not a flutter or twitch. From the impassive expression one might almost believe he met new humans every day. He ruined that image the moment Izuna got over his gob smacked awe and bowed. Then he chuckled deeply and reached out with one wing to draw Madara closer.

“Your brother, I presume. He shows a great deal more respect for his betters than you do.”

Izuna made a few aborted noises, clearly unsure how to process his first meeting with a Winged One. He gurgled in protest when Madara thwacked the great feathery bastard on one shoulder.

“That is quite enough sass out of you,” Madara shouted. Tobirama smirked and nuzzled at his cheek. It was disgustingly effective as a method of diffusing his temper and he immediately foresaw many stalled arguments. He would need to figure out a counter-attack of his own.

Surprisingly, introducing his brother to the one he would spend the rest of his very long life with didn’t involve half as much embarrassment as he’d thought it would. Izuna was on his best behavior, reverent in the way Madara used to be in the throes of disbelief that he was speaking to a real live Winged One. Tobirama seemed eager to make a good impression on the other most important person in Madara’s life. All in all he thought he came out pretty lucky. Things could have gone much worse for him.

Both of them knew a lot of embarrassing stories, after all.

After a few hours had passed and Izuna had taken enough time to observe how casually Madara interacted with Tobirama, he gathered enough courage to make the same request of him that he had of his brother: that Madara be allowed to visit him on occasion and that he himself be allowed to come in to the forest for his own visits. Tobirama agreed easily enough. Having one of the Winged Ones appear in town would cause a great stir so he would not be able to go down the mountain himself but he appeared interested enough in Izuna that he looked forward to future meetings between them.

Madara left with his brother that day only a few hours passed noon, held back briefly for a moment of tender privacy between them before Tobirama let him go back to the village. Over the next couple of weeks he spent more of his time around the house. Each morning he trekked out to the forest to meet with Tobirama and hunt for that night’s dinner and each afternoon he was home in time to spend his evening with Izuna, soaking up what time they had left together in the place they had grown up in.

The wedding was a simple affair and quickly thrown together, Tajima speeding things along as fast as he could. Madara absolutely did not cry during the ceremony. As an adult he understood that life couldn’t stay the same forever, that some things had to change eventually, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He was pleased to see Izuna so happy with where life had taken him but he was also sad to see the end of all the nights spent together and knowing that Izuna would no longer be there at the end of the day to carry his secrets for him. What bonds he failed to form with their other siblings he had made up for entirely with Izuna and he would miss that terribly.

He made the journey home with the rest of his family, the siblings he loved but had never been close to and the father who had always been just a little too distant. Knowing what other changes lay ahead of him, Madara made an effort to spend just a little time with each of them, spoke to everyone at least once and made his goodbyes without ever saying the words.

When they reached home he packed his most important belongings in a bag, waited until everyone else in the house was asleep, then slipped out of the village he had spent his whole life in and never looked back.

Tobirama found him with his feet in the river at the spot they first met, his expression wistful and bittersweet until their eyes met. Then it became a grin filled with all the possibilities open to them both.

“Do you happen to know of any good caves around here?” he asked. Tobirama lifted one eyebrow.

“You have quite a large backpack today,” he said in place of an answer. Madara grinned wider, the rush of what he had done hitting him at last.

“All my worldly possessions,” he declared, patted the mound beside him. “Without Izuna there’s nothing really left there to call home. So I thought it might be nice to have a place where you could…I don’t know…stay sometimes.” The words felt awkward as they came out no matter how smoothly he had always imagined them in his head.

He’d been looking forward to this for ages, the day when he would finally run in to the forest and not return, when he could spend as much time with Tobirama as he wanted to without having to leave every night. The part he had avoided thinking too hard about was the part where their roles would be reversed now. Not having anywhere to go back to was all well and good but Tobirama still had his Flightland and a family of his own.

Before any lonely thoughts could creep in and ruin his mood his partner dropped out of the trees and drew him on to his feet for a deep kiss.

“Is your heart very set on a cave?” he asked.

“Unless you happened to spot an empty house just hanging around unused out here.”

Madara snapped his teeth at the fingers that tried to bop his nose.

“I had another idea I think you would prefer,” Tobirama said. “A certain someone has had enough time to think about what he’s done and would like to apologize for his behavior. He’s come along today to do just that. Haven’t you, Anija?”

When he looked above their heads with a stern expression Madara followed his gaze upwards to find the same massive Winged One who had thrown him out in to open space the last time they met. The asshole had the nerve to wave at him in a friendly manner, a goofy smile nearly splitting his face in half.

“Don’t be mad! I’m sorry I was so rude last time!”

“Rude? _Rude_!? You threw me off a cliff!”

“Ah. Yes. Well I said I was sorry.” Hashirama withered in to a massive feathery cloud of depression. “You hate me now, don’t you? Oh no!”

Exasperated, Madara and Tobirama watched him tuck his head down and cover himself with his brown wings like a child hiding from the world in the hope that it would all disappear. Silence reigned until he peeked out again and found them both rolling their eyes at his antics.

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” Tobirama informed him.

“Does that mean he won’t come live in the Flightland? Because of me? I don’t want you to be unhappy because of me little brother!” His wingspan was just as impressive it had been before when he spread them out to catch his fall as he threw himself out of the treetops and fluttered down to the ground, catching a startled Madara’s hands in his own. “You’ll come live in the Flightland and make my baby brother happy, won’t you!?”

“Live in the…?”

“Now you’re ruining surprises,” Tobirama growled. When he shoved his brother aside the elder drooped with sadness again and Madara wondered if he had imagined the terrifying beast from a few weeks before.

Madara didn’t bother to protest the pale fingers sliding under his chin and tilting his head back so he could meet his beloved’s eyes but he did ask, “What is he talking about?”

“You’ve spoken of leaving your village for a long time. Now that Hashirama has met you I’ve asked his permission for you to make your nest with us. With me. It’s a private dwelling so there would be no idiots to disturb us when we want to be alone.” Tobirama’s eyes slid to the side to scowl at Hashirama innocently looking off to one side.

His first instinct was to protest the word ‘nest’ but he swallowed the urge. After the hundreds of conversations they’d had about their very different lives he knew that the Winged Ones used that word to describe the small tree-bound huts they built for themselves, avian and human instincts combining to come out at a compromise. He also knew that it was unlikely there was any way for a human to safely reach the top without being carried but that was something that could be figured out if he asked.

Tobirama was like that, solicitous of the ones he cared for even though he tried to pretend he wasn’t. It was one of the things Madara had fallen in love with him for.

“You’re asking me to come live with you?” he asked. Tobirama bent his head, thought the better of it, and then lifted one wing to shield them from their guest so he could pull them together for a slow kiss.

“Only if you want to. I would understand if–”

“I want to,” Madara hurried to interrupt him. Then he cleared his throat and checked his expression before repeating himself in a much less desperate tone. “I want to. That sounds…good.”

“Very good,” Tobirama agreed. Since they were both emotionally awkward he ended their conversation there with another kiss, squeezing Madara tight with both arms and licking at his bottom lip. They didn’t pull apart until they were interrupted by a polite cough. When Tobirama lowered his wing they saw that Hashirama had hopped back up on to the closest branch and was crouched in readiness with the biggest smile either of them had ever seen.

With his face like that it was hard to remember what he had looked like angry, which only made him all the more dangerous in Madara’s books.

“This is amazing! My baby brother gets to be happy and we get a new friend in the Flightland and you’re really quite young aren’t you? Not a child of course but we haven’t had anyone young around in probably about forty years! We don’t have children very often, you see, it’s a bad idea when we all live for so long. The population would be out of control if we procreated like you humans do! Say, I’ve always wondered–”

“ _Breathe_ , Hashirama.”

Madara smiled to see the exasperation on Tobirama’s face, irritated on the surface with layer upon layer of fondness hidden underneath. It was the same way he and Izuna had looked at each other all their lives. Clearly these siblings had a good relationship despite the whole one-almost-killed-the-other’s-life-partner thing, which was good to know.  

After taking a few gulps of air as he’d been told Hashirama immediately set off babbling again, turning and hopping through the trees as he did so. His voice faded away without him seeming to notice that they weren’t following behind him. Madara tucked his head underneath Tobirama’s chin to hide a smile.

“Is he like that all the time?”

“Unfortunately,” Tobirama grumbled. “You’ll have to get used to it.”

“Looking forward to it,” Madara said. He even meant it. Living with Tobirama among the Winged Ones surely meant there would be a lot of things he would need to get used to, ways of life he would need to adapt around.

On the other hand he would get to wake up every morning with the one he loved and spend all their endless days together. If he was careful enough they would have decades and centuries to be together, to love each other more and more with every year that passed. With Izuna safe in a place where he, too, was happy and Tobirama’s own brother opening the door to give him a new home, Madara couldn’t think of anything else in life he could possibly want for.

When they eventually followed Hashirama back to where the Winged Ones lived their peaceful existence, however, he found out that he was wrong. There had indeed been one more thing he needed in his life.

Hashirama’s mate was a glorious queen with cherry red hair as wild as the forest and wings to match that moved like autumn in motion. It only took one glance for Madara to realize that he had known her all his life, had grown up on stories of this beautiful creature, and that it was dreams of her that had started him on the path to where he was now.

He wondered what his mother would say to know that her son had finally found the dreams they shared, the bedtime stories that stayed in his heart until the day they found him waiting by the riverside to make dreams of his very own.


End file.
